


The Time-Traveling Vampire

by therealnarnia



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Chosen, Post-Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen, Torchwood - Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 16,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealnarnia/pseuds/therealnarnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Torchwood Crossover.  After the battle of L.A., Spike wakes up hundreds of years into the future, with no memory of what happened after that fateful day. He lives on to become a Time Agent, becoming partners with a man named Jack Harkness, and becoming a time traveler in hopes of finding Buffy and discovering what happened over the years he's missing. (Basically, Spike is John Hart). (ON SEMI-HIATUS).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Past

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

**Please check out my tumblr: the-real-narnia**

**And I will post a Playlist when I'm done, but for now, try listening to: The Lonely by Christina Perri and To Build A Home feat. Patrick Watson by the Cinematic Orchestra.**

**Enjoy! And please review.**

* * *

Part One - Past


	2. Chapter One: The Last Day on Earth

**Chapter One – The Last Day on Earth**

Spike knew that it was his last day on Earth.

The last time he had died, back in Sunnydale, with the amulet, he hadn't had as much of a fair warning. Not really. He had known that he might die, but he never really looked at it as his last day on earth.

But he hadn't gotten the 'day off', as Angel said.

But this time he did. He had one last day on earth to do whatever he wanted, and to tell the truth, he couldn't really think of anything.

So he started off getting really, really, drunk.

Or trying to. It was kind of hard to get drunk after drinking so much alcohol for centuries. The only  _real_  way to get drunk was to feed from a human who was drunk, but he wasn't going to do that. He didn't really want to get drunk; he just wanted to feel the familiar taste of alcohol as it burned down his throat, the spark of courage it enacted in him.

When he was 'drunk' enough, he made his way to a poetry bar. Drink in one hand, his low, deep voice read off the poetry he had written for Cecily, one that he had always remembered. He wasn't expecting the audience to actually like it, especially after being called 'William the Bloody Awful Poet' – he was so glad that history had dropped the last two words – but he kept going, and spent most of the day reading his poetry, the ones he had written over a hundred years ago, and the ones that he'd written a couple of months ago, watching Buffy. She could never know, of course.

And then, at the very end, before he headed out to destroy part of the Circle of the Black Thorn, he sat, and he wrote a letter.

He read it over, several times. And he was sure that it said just what he wanted it to. And then at the end he signed it. Love, Spike. William, 'The Bloody Awful Poet' Pratt.

And then, before he could stop himself, he sealed the letter in an envelope, wrote Buffy's address in Italy on it, and put it in the mail.

And then he walked away.

* * *

Angel had told them to meet in the alley behind the Hyperion, if they were still alive and they were going to fight against the Senior Partners.

Spike got there first, waiting in the alley for the other to show. Angel showed up quickly after, and Spike told him that no one else had showed up.

They could both feel the battle coming, and that's when Spike really knew that he was at the end. But he was okay. He was going down fighting, saving the world, right next to Angel. It only felt right. It had started with Angel, and it was going to finish with him.

They heard a yell as Gunn made their way to them, jogging and waving an ax in his hands.

They smelled the blood immediately, keeping him upright as he sagged. He tried to keep his voice light as he joked about Gunn's wound, but he knew immediately that it was a mortal one. And that if Gunn tried to fight with them, he would go down almost immediately.

But Spike was sad. He would never tell any of them, but Spike cared for them. He had cared for the Scoobies, too.

When Illyria dropped down to the ground and announced that Wesley had died, Spike felt his heart sink. He had already lost Fred, and now Wesley and Gunn, soon, were going to die as well.

But he knew that was one of the consequences of being a vampire. You outlive everyone you know.

He was glad it was raining, because he started to wonder if he was crying. He couldn't really tell. But he knew Illyria was, and that she was confused at her grief over him. When she announced how she wanted more violence, it didn't surprise him.

Out of all of them, though, she might be the only one to make it out alive.

The army of thousands showed up, and the four of them stood for battle. Illyria had mentioned that Gunn would last minutes at best, but it didn't slow him down.

Angel called dibs on the dragon.

And they ran into the fray.


	3. Chapter Two: Alive Again

**Chapter Two – Alive Again**

When he awoke, it was in a dark alley. He could see that the sky was at twilight. Just the beginning of the day for a vampire.

He got up and walked out of the alley, noticing the new sights and sounds. He noticed that there were street vendors everywhere, despite it being night.

He walked up to one, and asked him what time it was, and also the date.

The man told him that the sun had just set at around eight or so, and that it was sometime in early November.

When Spike asked what year it was, the man started to laugh, before realizing that Spike was serious.

2867\. Two thousand, eight hundred sixty seven. It had been over eight hundred and sixty three years since he could last remember.

The last thing he could remember was charging into battle, alongside Angel and the others.

He had saw Gunn fall within two minutes. Illyria taking on thousands of creatures at once, turning them to dusk almost instantly.

He remembered thinking that she would have been helpful back when they were fighting the First.

He himself slayed one after another. He watched as Angel managed to cut off the head of the dragon he was riding.

And as he, Angel, and Illyria stood back to back, already lasting much longer than they had all thought they would, a roar rang throughout the city. It resonated within the vampires souls, and then…

Nothing. Nothing but waking up in 2867, watching stars.


	4. Chapter Three: As The Years Pass

**Chapter Three – As The Years Pass**

It took over three hundred years for Spike to realize just how long and lonely his existence was. He spent most of it drinking.

When he had awakened after the battle, he was hit with the sudden thought that everyone he knew was dead.

Darla and Drusilla were long since dead. He couldn't feel Angel through his familial link. Not as if he was dead, but as if he was never there in the first place. Spike assumed that it meant he was stuck in another dimension.

He searched for him, for so long, but he never found him. He went to Wolfram and Hart, tortured a couple of them, but no luck. They didn't seem to know what happened either.

When he hit the year 3000, Spike gave up. Every once in a while, he would get drunk, and go off looking for him again, only to slink back to wherever he was staying a week later.

* * *

Over another millennia passed before Spike realized that he ought to do something about money. And about keeping it.

He started making aliases, and after he reached a certain age that he couldn't pull off being, he would 'kill' the alias and transfer all of his money into a nephew's account. A nephew who happened to look very, very similar, and had the same odd, skin disease that prevented him from going outside.

He didn't realize what he was doing with his names until it was too late.

* * *

The first name he took was Don Summers. He decided that he wanted to use Buffy's name to help remember her. And, indeed, as the years passed, he start to forget what color her eyes were. How she looked like when she smiled.

When Don got to old, he 'killed' him and made Alex Summers, Don's young nephew who got everything in his will.

Then he went with Terry. Then Andy. Then Will. Then Jon and Yan and Fred and Charlie and Lore and Larry and Wes and when he reached the next name he stopped. And he looked back at all his other names.

Don. Dawn.

Alex. Xander.

Terry. Tara

Andy. Andrew

Will. Willow

Jon. Joyce

Yan. Anyanka

Fred. Winifred Burkle

Charlie. Charles Gunn

Lore. Lorne

Larry. Illyria

Wes. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce

Randy Giles.

When he saw the pattern he spent days drinking.

For the next years, he went by those names alone. No one had called him 'Spike' for over a millennia. He never went by Spike, or Angel, or Angelus or Angelo or Angelito. He never went by Bucky or Buddy or Buckley or whatever other male-centered version of Buffy.

But he kept theirs. He built a house, without realizing that he built it with almost the exact same layout of Buffy's house – well, what he could remember of it.

Sometimes he would enter the house and would sit with his back to the front door. And he would drink, and watch the stairs, waiting for Buffy to come walking down with bloodied hands, waiting for Dawn's relief of her sister being alive. Waiting for the rest of the Scoobies to burst through the door and hurry around Buffy.

But no one ever came.

He would see ghosts. Not real ghosts, not even the haunting kind. But he would walk around and get a fleeting memory – a laugh, a kiss. He would smell the pancakes Tara and Willow would make each morning before Dawn went to school. He would hear Dawn complaining about her homework, and he would promise her to help with History and English.

He would taste Joyce's hot chocolate, with the little marshmallows.

It wasn't the same house. It wasn't the same furniture. But it felt  _real_.

And it made him feel so much more alone.


	5. Chapter Four: A Package

**Chapter Four – A Package**

Somewhere in the 42nd century, Spike got a package.

Well, that wasn't true. Spike knew exactly when he got it. He knew it down to the date and time that he opened his door and saw the package on the doorstep. He remembered the crisp night air and the hastily, badly written 'Spike' on the package.

He hadn't used that name in over a millennium.

He hardly remembered it anymore.

He picked up the package and brought it inside. He was overwhelmed by the amount of perfume in it…perfume he used to recognize.

He ripped the box open. His hands shook as he pulled the items out.

That box was filled with the most precious things in the world. He took it with him to the living room, and sat down, putting it on the coffee table.

He picked up the tape and put it in the VCR. (He had gotten technicians to create one for him. But he had no idea why until that moment. And when it actually worked, it was the best day of his life.)

Andrew sat on a toilet, framed by the bathroom walls. And he started to tell a story. Halfway through, Anya interrupted him.

Spike watched the whole recording, then rewinded it, and watched it again. And he cried.

It was everything. It was everything that Andrew had gotten on tape while they were fighting the First. It was snarky, self-absorbed Anya. It was cute, little Dawn, it was everyone. It had goofy Xander and uptight Giles and witchy Willow.

And Buffy. Beautiful Buffy. How could he have ever forgotten the color of her eyes, her beautiful hair?

He even cried when it got to him. God, how he missed being that carefree. That  _happy_.

As he watched the video four, five more times, he cried and went through the box.

It had pictures. There was Buffy, Xander and Willow. Xander and Anya. Willow and Tara. Buffy, Dawn and Joyce. Him and Angel. It had pictures of a group of them. He, Buffy, Giles, Willow, Anya, Xander, Tara, and Dawn. It had Him, Angel, Fred, Gunn, Lorne and Wesley. It had Wesley and Fred, and even a picture of Illyria.

It had Buffy's favorite blue sweater. It had ten bottles worth of her perfume.

He watched the video, held Buffy's sweater, and cried, for the first time in centuries.


	6. Chapter Five: Copies

**Chapter Five - Copies**

He made copies. Of everything. He made copies of the pictures, of the tape, he got a company to start mass producing the perfume. He had pictures all over his houses, he put them in security deposit boxes around the world. He kept a small copy of every picture in his wallet.

The pictures were what stopped him from staying.

Every night, with an hour before dawn, he would grab a bottle and sit on the roof. And he would look at his pictures. And every day, he would leave.

Every day, he would look at Buffy's face and could see how she would react if she knew he was going to dust himself.

So every day, he managed to get enough strength to stop himself from running into the light. At least for another day. Because by that night, he was up on that roof again.

The pictures where what kept him alive.

They kept him waiting. What for, he didn't know.

Until the end of the 49th century.

And all of a sudden, Spike felt hope for the first time in several thousand years.


	7. Chapter Six: The Time Agency

**Chapter Six – The Time Agency**

Earth was abuzz with news. The Time Agency was building an embassy on Earth, and you could become a Time Agent yourself, if you were lucky enough!

Time Travel. For the first time, Spike had hope. He knew a bit about time travel – one of his lovers had been a scientist. Well, when he said lovers…

He hadn't loved anyone since Buffy. He would sleep with people but after a while, he would leave.

Because they were just going to die, and leave him.

But he learned – he could essentially go back to Buffy. Since he had no idea what happened during his 'Blackout', as he started calling it, he could go back and interfere. If he knew what happened, then it became a fixed point. But he didn't know anything. And even if he met himself then (which he didn't think he would, but who knows) it would be okay because he wouldn't remember any of it.

He made his way to Cardiff, and signed up.

* * *

And….

They didn't let him in.

He demanded again and again to be let in. He snuck on the grounds. He tried to steal a vortex manipulator. He applied continuously as different people for over two hundred years.

He tried everything he could think of, every single possibility. But nothing happened. And one day, after another failed attempt, when he grabbed his liquor and his wallet, and waited outside, he didn't come back in. He waited on the Agency's lawn, and climbed a large, ancient tree on its ground. He found himself talking to the tree as he climbed.

"Yeah, yeah," Spike grumbled. "I get it. You're old. You know what? So m' I." He climbed onto the highest branches, and found himself looking over the rolling hills of Scotland.

As he sat there, drinking and talking to himself (and the tree) he thought of Buffy. He stared at her picture. She wouldn't want him to go. And maybe if he waited another century or two, Time Travel would be more available.

But even as he thought it, he knew that it was a lie, and that he wasn't even trying.

He drowned himself in more alcohol. Maybe when he was dead, he'd see Buffy again.

But he knew that was a lie, too.

This was his last night on Earth.

And then he'd be gone. And that was okay.


	8. Chapter Seven: Jack

**Chapter Seven – Jack**

"What are you doing up there?" a young voice called from the roots of the tree.

Spike ignored it.

"Hey, aren't you that fella? The one with the weird rash?"

Spike said nothing, but he really wanted to hit this child.

"Yeah, you're the kid with the sunburning problem. You're like allergic, or you'll die or something. What are you doing in that tree? Sunrise is up in half an hour."

Spike almost snorted. Kid. Right. If only.

"You could get hurt. You should really come down."

God, does he  _ever_  shut up.

"Well, fine. I'm coming up then."

He heard the boy grunting as he climbed up the tree. The boy eased himself up next to Spike.

"So, who are you?"

Spike said nothing.

"Are you deaf?"

No reply.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name, I'm just going to have to make one up for you," he said. "Let's see. I'll call you….John."

"John?" Spike asked, turning to him. " _John._  JOHN. Do I look like a bloody  _John_  to you?"

"Ah, so the man speaks," the boy impishly grinned at him. He was in his early twenties, with brown hair, and hazel brown eyes, wearing a flirtatious smile. "Nice to meet you, John,"

"Yeah? And what do they call you?" Spike asked.

"The Face of Boe," the kid replied.

Spike snorted. "Great name. Your mother must have hated you."

"Ha ha ha. They call me the Face of Boe because I'm the first person from the Boeshane Peninsula to join the Time Agency. I'm their poster boy." He smiled, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Jack. You?"

Spike shook his hand, but turned away as he muttered, "John." It was the name he was going by when he registered at the Time Agency this time.

Jack shook his hand, and then started laughing. Not soon after, Spike joined in. And he was laughing, drunk off his ass, on top of a tree with a stranger.

He didn't remember what laughing felt like. In a way, he almost felt guilty because of it. He shouldn't be happy.

But he couldn't stop laughing. And he laughed and laughed, with Jack on the roof.

And his heart didn't feel so heavy.


	9. Chapter Eight:  New Beginnings

**Chapter Eight – New Beginnings**

Jack managed to get him out of the tree and into the Time Agency's castle before the sun came up. Years later, Jack would ask him why he was going to kill himself. Spike would always shrug and say, "No idea," and he would leave it at that.

When Jack learned that the Time Agency wouldn't let Spike in because of his 'condition,' he talked with the school engineer, and managed to convince him to build a Vortex Manipulator that would shield Spike from the sun.

The man agreed, and built a prototype that allowed Spike to go through drills and training in the sunlight. If Spike qualified to become a Time Agent after that, they would supply him with his own Vortex Manipulator that would do everything a normal one would – and protect him from the sun.

The next night, Spike climbed the tree again, and waited for the sun to come up.

Jack pulled himself up next to him.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," Spike said. "M' not trying to kill me 'self, mate," he held up the Vortex Manipulator. "I'm watching the sunrise."

"For the first time in how long?" Jack asked.

Spike sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." The last time he was in the sun safely was when he had the Gem of Amarra. Then it was with the amulet, where he actually got to feel the sun before it started burning the skin off his bones. When he was with Angel, he could watch sunrises through the glass that Wolfram and Hart had. And there was that one time when he was in the demon dimension, and he could walk in the sunlight.

But all of that had been over thousands of years ago.

So they sat there, waiting for the sunrise, on top of a tree that was as old as him, and drinking beer. Amazing how, after thousands of years, beer was still there. It was a comfort that he didn't appreciate enough.

And as he watched the colors explode over the horizon, and felt heat wash over him without pain, Spike smiled.


	10. Chapter Nine:  Re-Adjusting

**Chapter Nine – Re-Adjusting**

Near graduation from the Time Academy, they started taking tests through time. Spike had been there for two years now, with Jack leading the way. Jack was unlike most people he have ever met. Then again, maybe all people from the Boeshane Peninsula were like him. Spike wondered if that meant that he should head there immediately, or if he should stay far, far away from there.

At some point, Spike realized how pathetic he had become. He had spent centuries wallowing in self-pity. Maybe if he tried to do something about it, he could have gotten something done years ago. He might have been able to already be back with Buffy.

And he got better. He would never be the same as he used to be, but he got better. Jack brought out the person he was.

And Time brought out the demon in him.


	11. Chapter Ten:  The Time Demon

**Chapter Ten – The Time Demon**

The first time he time traveled, he threw up.

Jack was at his side in an instant, holding him up. Jack's eyes went wide when he saw the blood coming out.

"John!" he said, staring at the blood. "You…are you…"

"M' fine," Spike coughed out, pushing him away. "M' alright."

"John, you're coughing up blood."

"M'FINE," Spike shouted. He had finally stopped coughing, but he still shook as he gathered himself up. "We time traveled, and I fell a bit sick. That's all."

Jack looked a bit upset at that.

Spike brought himself closer. "I felt a bit nauseous," he said, drawing the words out. "That's all."

Jack finally understood what he was saying: don't put this in the report. He nodded.

"Let's find the bloody scroll," Spike said.

It was the beginning of their senior year at the Academy. They were sent out on their own to follow a scavenger hunt. The times and locations were programmed into their Vortex Manipulators and locked. They couldn't get anywhere that wasn't authorized. There was a certain reset button they could press if they needed to: it would send them back to their base if they were in trouble.

"Here's ours," Jack said, pulling out their first scroll. This one would lead them to the next scroll and their first piece of the puzzle.

While Jack read the scroll out loud, Spike thought of how ridiculous this was. He was just glad that they didn't send an advisor with them. He would have reported Spike's….incident. That would have gotten him kicked out of the Academy immediately.

"What do you think?" Jack asked, when he was done.

"Hmm?" Spike asked, leaning forward and reading the scroll. "A bridge. Definitely talking about a bridge."

"Really?" Jack asked. "Cause-"

"It's a bridge," Spike said. "Now we just need to find the running water."

It didn't take long before they found the water, and then, the bridge. After some quick searching, Spike found the next scroll and the first piece of the puzzle. It was a metal shape, and he couldn't help but wonder what the hell it was making.

"Alright," Jack said, putting the piece in the bag. "Time to go to the next location." He looked over at Spike. "Brace yourself."

"L' be fine," Spike muttered, and they fizzed to a different time and a different place.

* * *

The second time was worse.

He threw up the rest of the blood, and then was dry heaving, all the blood gone.

He started to feel the hunger. It was worse than it had been in years.

He held up his hand, holding Jack away. Spike didn't want him to get too close. "M' fine," he said. "Just give me a bit."

When he stopped heaving, he sat up, and took out his flask, drinking a small bit of it. He felt the hunger diminish as the blood went down his throat, but not by much. He couldn't drink anymore, however, because he would just throw it up the next time. And he had to save the rest for the next times that his hunger got away from him.

"Is that really wise?" Jack asked.

"Yep," Spike said, wondering what Jack would think if he knew that he was drinking blood, not alcohol. "Let's find the next piece."

* * *

It was like that again and again. All of the clues had something to do with the time and with the place they were in. The farthest they were going back was fifty years. Spike hope he didn't let on to the fact that the reason why he knew the answers to all of the poorly written riddles was because he remembered what was important about them.

In total, they ended up traveling six times. The farther back they traveled, the worse it hit Spike. The first time they jumped back one year. The next, five years. After that, ten, then fifteen, then twenty. And each time, it hit him worse and worse, and his hunger was stronger than ever. When they got the last piece, they went back. While the other jumps have slightly gotten bigger, the jump from twenty years to fifty one years hit him the hardest.

He fell to his knees, shaking and throwing up what little blood he had in him left. And then he started throwing up a black ooze. Spike immediately grabbed his flask and drank all that was left. It was a good thing that he remembered that he had to travel back, or else he wouldn't have saved any after the last trip.

He couldn't help wondering that if this was what happened after fifty years, what would happen if he tried three thousand years?

Or what if he could only jump fifty years at a time? What if he had to do this again and again and again?

Spike pushed the thoughts out of his mind and hauled himself up.

"John," Jack said.

"M' fine," Spike whispered. He didn't believe it anymore. "Please. M' fine."

Jack sighed and then said, "You're fine."

They sat down in the field and molded the pieces of metal together. When they finished putting it together, it floated up in the air and moved away from them. After five feet, it stopped.

"I think it wants us to follow it," Jack said.

Spike shrugged, and they got up and followed it. "It must have a range of five feet," Jack noted. "It doesn't go farther."

"Smart of them," Spike noted.

It led them into the forest that Spike soon recognized as the one on the Academy's grounds. It wasn't long before it led them to the castle's backyard, where their instructor stood under a tree.

"Congratulations," she said. "You're the first team back. Well, the first one that completed the mission," she reached up and took the floating piece of metal out of the air.

"Some people pushed the emergency button?" Jack asked.

She nodded. "The trips didn't react well with them. Several of them threw up. One even coughed up a bit of blood. He's alright now. But they must all be dismissed as Time Agents. They will still be a part of Agency, of course, but they won't do any traveling. At least, not through time."

Spike felt a shot of fear run through him, as he looked at Jack.

Jack didn't even see it, before running off smoothly, "We felt a bit nauseous the first time, but we adjusted. We're fine now."

Spike relaxed. He knew that he could trust Jack.

He always could.

* * *

That night, when he returned to his quarters, he opened his refridgeration unit and downed all of the blood in it. When he was done, he felt better. But he still felt terrible. The hunger was still there, and there was something about it that was different this time.

Spike signed out and went to a demon bar, where he regularly got his blood. It was human, but bagged. It wasn't as good as from the vein, but that wasn't going to happen and it hasn't in over a couple decades. Sometimes, when he really needed to get drunk, he would find a drunk human and drink from them, before leaving them at the hospital. Alcohol affected him so much better like that. He didn't drink animal blood; it didn't do much to satisfy the hunger, even though Angel seemed to think it could.

He sat down and ordered a couple bags of blood, while drinking a glass. He finished his glass, paid, and took his bags outside.

The sun had set while he was in there.

He just wished he could have stopped it.

If it had been to drink, he could have stopped himself, taken her to the hospital, saved her life.

But it wasn't.

It was to kill.

When he saw the woman walking across the dark, deserted street, his Demon exploded, and before he knew what was happening, her dead body was in his arms.

He hadn't drank from her. He hadn't wanted her blood at all. He wanted her death.


	12. Chapter Eleven:  To Kill

**Chapter Eleven – The Kill**

When he realized what he'd done, he dropped the body and ran, scooping up the blood bags as he ran.

He got back to his quarters and drank a mix of blood and beer. And then he spent the whole night awake, guiltily staring at the ceiling.

When he woke up the next day, there was a dead body next to him. He recoiled in shock, before his sense started telling him that he had to dump it. As quickly as he could, he moved the body down the river, and pushed it in. There was no bite marks, just a broken neck.

In the back of his mind, he wondered why he didn't drink from the body. Just dead.

When he got back, he drank some blood. And then he threw it out. He dumped it down the drain.

As he stood there, watching the blood wash down the drain, he didn't feel anything. His conscious told him that he should go out for a walk, cool down, but it got quieter and quieter.

He went outside, for a walk, but not because he needed to cool down.

Because he needed to kill.

He followed the woman for nine blocks before he went in. The longer he stalked her, the better his demon felt. It roared in anticipation.

He went in for the kill.

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked. Jack's hand was on Spike's shoulder. Just then, Spike felt his demon die out, until it was silenced.

Spike felt like himself again, and thought of what had just happened in almost a dreamlike state. Somehow, the demon shut itself down in Jack's presence.

"Nothing," he lied. "Just going for a walk."


	13. Chapter Twelve:  Partners

**Chapter Twelve – Partners**

Over the rest of their senior year, Spike felt his demon getting worse and worse.

After the first time, he didn't throw up again, but he wasn't drinking blood, either. He would try, but all it would do was make him feel sick, and then he was throwing it up again.

When Jack wasn't around, it was even worse. He was killing people left and right, stealing things. He started doing drugs – not an easy thing for a vampire to do, but he still managed to get as high as a kite when he wanted to.

The Academy contemplated kicking him out. Even though he thought of Buffy, of the reason for wanting to go back, his demon didn't care. It wanted to keep doing the things it was doing.

The only reason he got to remain was because of Jack. The Academy didn't want to release him onto the world, but Jack could tame him. So Jack moved into his quarters. Jack went with him as much as possible. And when they graduated and became official Time Agents – and Spike got his special Vortex Manipulator – they were partners.

They didn't really follow the rules though.

They became con-artists, across the galaxy. They became lovers, for lack of a better term.

They became partners in just about every term of the word.

Except for the one that mattered.

In the end, Spike did love him. He really did.

It didn't really matter.

Jack still ended up dying at his hand.


	14. Part Two - Present

**The song for this section is A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. Though you might want to keep listening to To Build A Home by Cinematic Orchestra until the chapter after Spike and Buffy reunite.**

* * *

Part Two - Present


	15. Chapter Thirteen: Cardiff

**Chapter Thirteen - Cardiff**

In a shimmering yellow mist, Spike stepped out of the portal. He had tracked the signal down to a simpler time on Earth. He hadn't paid attention to the date, just the whereabouts. Cardiff.

Been a while since he'd been to Cardiff.

He needed to kill someone.

* * *

He heard someone shout, "Get off! I didn't do it!" and followed the voice.

"Please, leave me alone!" the man said desperately. He noticed Spike walking towards him. "Help me!" he said, gesturing to the man holding him to the car, trying to cut him.

"Come any closer and I'll cut his neck," the man on top warned.

"Fine," Spike said, still walking towards them.

"What?" the man asked.

"Which artery do you normally sever?" Spike continued, coming right up to the man.

"No," the man on the bottom gasped.

"I'm not bluffing," the man with the knife warned.

"Oh, well, see now, you've given yourself away," Spike said. "Only someone who's bluffing ever says they're not."

The other man froze, almost dropping his knife, as Spike gripped him by the neck and easily raised him into the air, like he was nothing. Spike continued to the edge of the parking roof they've been on, and held the man over to the sidewalk, about four stories down.

"Oh, God! Shit! Please! Please stop!" the man shouted, holding onto Spike's arms for dear life, his legs waving around in the air.

"Well…..no," Spike said shrugging, and dropped the man.

The other one hurried over to Spike's side, looking over the railing at the man's broken body below. The blood was spreading around the pavement.

That satisfied Spike. He never drunk blood anymore; he didn't need to. He needed to spill it.

"He's dead!" the man next to him said in shock, and started to back away from Spike.

Spike's hand shot out to grab the man.

"Please," the other man said.

"I was never here," he said quite plainly, and obvious.

The other man nodded.

"Go," Spike said, releasing him. The other man hurried away.

"Thirsty now," he muttered to himself as he left the scene. He had to go find something to drink.

On the way, his Time Vortex went off. Someone else was in the vicinity. Not just any someone, but Jack. Spike's eyes widened. It's been six decades since he'd seen Jack. Once they became partners, in every way, but they stopped tricking people and gone their separate ways. And of course, since Spike could time travel and never age, it made it easier for him to go centuries in between seeing other people, from the agency.

He had to leave him a message for the body.

* * *

Spike walked into the bar, needing a drink. He'd gotten Jack's voicemail.

It was his kind of bar. Hot girls, good drinks.

He clicked a button on his Vortex Manipulator, and turned off the music.

"All right," he announced to the whole bar. "Now…"

"You, go. You, go. You, go." He started dismissing them. Then he noticed the next girl, "You. Stay." He turned back to the rest of the bar. "Go, go, go, stay. Go, go, go, go, go, go, go…oh," he noticed two hot blondes. He loved blondes. "Stay, stay, stay," he said to them.

They giggled. Spike returned to the survey of the rest of the bar. "Go, go, go, go, go! The rest of you, go!"

"I'll take one of everything," he said, turning to the bartender with a bit more speed than necessary. "Any questions?" he asked, turning back to the bar.

"Now, now, all right mate, let's take this outside." Two men came up to him.

Ah. Security. This was going to be a treat.

Spike smiled, "Oh," he said. "Did I mention I'm armed?"

There were screams as everyone ran for the doors.

Spike laughed. Oh, this was good.


	16. Chapter Fourteen: Bar Fights

**Chapter Fourteen – Bar Fights**

Buffy hated Cardiff.

It smelled too much like a factory, and when it wasn't smelling like oil, it was smelling like beer.

She still didn't understand why  _she_  had to do this. They had hundreds of slayers at their disposal, and still,  _she_  had to go. She should be back in Scotland, at their castle, training the slayers. Hell, she had two decoys pretending to be her. Send one of them.

But no. Giles had insisted that it  _had_  to be her.

She sighed. She needed a drink. She wasn't meeting their client until tomorrow.

She grabbed her coat and left the hotel.

* * *

Spike was waiting at the bar, drinking shots, when Jack showed up.

Spike got up from his seat when Jack burst through the doors.

He felt his demon back off, as it always did around Jack. He felt like himself for the first time in a long time.

He and Jack strode over to each other, before meeting in the middle where Jack pushed Spike into a deep kiss. They grasped each other until Jack had to come up for air, Spike gasping as well, despite the fact that he didn't breathe. Spike hadn't seen Jack for over a century.

Spike socked him in the jaw.

Jack stumbled back, before retaliating, hitting Spike. The next thing he knew, they were both getting down and dirty with each other, while beating the crap out of one another.

Spike even let Jack throw him around. It's been a while since he had this much fun.

They were throwing each other through glass windows, and breaking the bar as much as possible. They finally came to a stalemate when they both had their guns out and pointed at each other.

"You're putting on weight," Spike said.

"You're losing your hair," Jack said, smirking at him.

Spike laughed. God, he missed this. "What are you wearing?" he asked. They'd both gone by hundreds of different aliases over the years.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said. "Note the stripes."

 _Back to the original name, then?_  Spike thought, before replying, "Captain John Hart. Note the sarcasm."

"Hey, I worked my way up through the ranks," Jack said.

"I bet the ranks were very grateful," Spike retorted, before sighing and saying, "I need a drink."

"I thought you'd never ask," Jack said, lowering his weapon and walking towards the bar.

Spike followed and grabbed two bottles, as opening one and drinking straight from the bottle.

"So, uh, how was rehab?" Jack asked, watching Spike drink.

Spike stopped drink, turning to smile at him. "Rehabs. Plural."

"Drink, drugs, sex, and…." Jack started.

"Murder," Spike supplied.

They started laughing. "Haha, you went to murder rehab?" Jack asked.

"I know," Spike said. "Ridiculous." He was laughing, but he really meant what he said. His soul didn't bother him anymore. It only popped out around Jack. The rest of the time, the demon took over, thanks to the time travel. The rehab had only made it worse, and when he finally got out, he showed that to them all. "The odd kill, who does it hurt?"

"You clean now?" Jack asked, smirking.

"Yeah. Kicked everything. Livin' like a priest."

Jack really laughed at that, before putting the drink down. "So. How's the Time Agency?"

"You didn't hear?" Spike asked. As Jack gave a little shake of the head, Spike continued, "It's shut down."

Jack looked at him in shock. "You're…you're kidding."

Spike slowly shook his head, saying sadly, "There's only seven of us left now."

"Wow," Jack said, taking it in.

"It's good to see you," Spike said, voicing what he thought earlier. Though good didn't begin to cover it. It was amazing to see him again. It made him feel like himself for the first time in a very long time. Well, maybe. He wasn't quite sure what  _himself_  felt like anymore. "It was never the same without you," he admitted, looking deep into Jack's eyes.

Jack leaned forward and Spike readied himself for the next kiss, surprised when Jack said, "You need to go. I want you out of my territory."

"What?" Spike asked, hiding his hurt with surprise. He looked at Jack like he was nuts. "Time was you couldn't get enough of me on your territory." As he said that, he grabbed his gun on the table and shot at the two doors, sensing other nearby.

"Alright, everybody out!" he commanded. He watched as four other people entered the room, their guns in the air.

"Everything alright, Jack?" one of the girls asked. She looked like she was in her late twenties, with dark black hair. The man next to her was a bit short, with freckles, a round face and short brown hair. On the other side of the room, there was another girl, of Asian descent, with glasses on the bridge of her nose. The man next to her was taller than the other man, with dark hair and a longer face.

"It's okay, okay, okay!" Jack shouted, trying to calm the room. Not like anything could actually happen to Spike, but he didn't know that.

"You've got a team, how sweet!" Spike said, laughing. "Oh, pretty little friend," he commented, looking at the Asian woman. "No blonde, though. You need a blonde."

"God, he worse than Jack," the shorter of the two men muttered.

"Do you have a team name?" Spike asked, turning to Jack. "I love team names, go on." Anything was better than the Scoobies, or Angel Investigations.

"Torchwood," Jack said.

Well that was better than the other two. But he still had to tease him about it. "Oh? Not Excalibur? Blizzard? Bikini Cops? No. Torchwood. Oh, dear."

Jack gestured to the rest of the team, telling him their names, "Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, meet…"

"Captain John Hart," Spike announced.

"We go back," Jack explained.

"Excuse me, we more than go back," Spike said. "We were partners," Spike explained.

"In what way?" the Ianto fellow asked.

"In every way," Spike said. "And then some."

"It was two weeks," Jack said.

"Except the two weeks was trapped in a time loop, so we were together for five years. It was like having a wife."

"You were the wife," Jack said.

" _You,_ were the wife," Spike said.

"No, you were the wife." Jack said.

"Oh, but I was a good wife," Spike said, smirking. It had been pretty good when he and Jack were trapped there for a couple of years. Not a bad time in his long life at all.

"I bet you were," the Toshiko girl said.

Ianto shot her a look.

"What?" she asked him. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed. He's cute."

"They're just shy," Spike told her.

"What are you doing here," Jack said, finally getting down to business.

Spike sighed. "I was wondering when we'd get to that," he said, fingering his Vortex Manipulator.

"It's the same as yours," Toshiko noted.

"A little smaller," Jack remarked.

"But lasts, much longer," Spike remarked, before chuckling. "Get two Time Agents in the same room together, it's always about the size of the wrist strap."

"Yeah, sorry, what's a Time Agent?" Owen asked.

"What, he never told you about his past?" Spike asked.

"No, he hasn't," Gwen said, speaking up for the first time.

Spike decided to skip his original plan. This was interesting, and it's been so long since he'd seen Jack, he decided to put the diamond off for later. Jack gave him something to really live for again.

"It's going to take a lot to explain. You'll want to be somewhere where you can prepare yourself," Spike said.

"For what?" Jack asked.

"For everything," Spike said.


	17. Chapter Fifteen: The Hub

**Chapter Fifteen – The Hub**

"You live in a sculpture? Could you be anymore pretentious?" Spike asked. God, this building was like something Angelus would have lived in.

"Get on," Jack said, ignoring his comment and pointing on the sidewalk he was standing on.

"So your team's not allowed in this way?" Spike asked.

"This is the entrance for tourists," Jack said to him.

Spike snorted. "I remember the last time you said that."

The ground rocked underneath him, slowly sinking into the ground. "Where...?"

Jack just smirked at him.

* * *

"It's roomy, I'll give you that," Spike commented as he saw their HQ. "Your taste in interior design hasn't gotten any better though. What is this, sewer chic?"

Jack gave a little laugh. He got off of the platform and stopped Spike from getting off.

"Weapons," he explained.

Spike pulled out his guns and his sword.

"All of them," Jack said.

"You know me. Two weapon kind of guy," Spike said.

As Gwen started reading out the other weapons he had on his body, he rolled his eyes, saying, "Fine," before pulling them all out.

"Now, why don't we get down to business," Jack said.

Spike smirked. He remembered the last time he'd said that.

* * *

They sat around the conference room, as Spike began to explain what happened.

"First, I want you to know that I followed someone here," Spike said quietly.

"Who?" Jack asked.

"You're not going to be happy about it," Spike warned.

"I can take it," Jack said.

"Not so sure  _I_  can," Spike muttered. "I promise I'm not lying," he said louder. Jack gave him a nod to go on. Spike looked at the screen. He didn't want to be facing Jack when he explained this.

"It's-" Spike froze as he saw the numbers in the corner of the screen. "What are those numbers?" he asked, pointing to them.

"That's the date," Gwen said, giving him a weird look.

Not even realizing it, Spike began to shake.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked him. He didn't understand. Spike should have known the date when he got here, unless he simply locked on to the signal from the person he followed. But it should have still read the date when he landed, unless he didn't look at it.

Why wouldn't he look at it?

"I need to go," Spike said, getting up, knocking his chair over as he ran for the door.

"What? John, wait!" Jack turned to go after him.

* * *

He ran back into the room a few minutes later. "He's gone," Jack said.

"So what, we're just going to let him go?" Gwen asked.

"No. We're going to follow him. But everyone keep your distance. He can tell when people are close enough."

Grabbing the equipment they needed to properly spy on John, Torchwood left the building.


	18. Chapter Sixteen:  Meeting

**Chapter Sixteen – Meeting**

Spike left the Hub as quickly as he could, getting far enough away that he thought they couldn't watch him any more with their technology.

He found himself in an alley, kicking a dumpster before punching the wall in front of him. He kept hitting and hitting, until he grew exhausted and he collapsed on his knees, his hands bloody, tears streaming down his face.

Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched. On one side, there was Torchwood, and on the other was a woman.

Spike collapsed, crying. He had finally made it. He had tried so hard to end up here, but he couldn't go past 2500. Yet he managed to get here by tagging along with residual energy. Wiping away his tears, he got up, ready to stride away, before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Spike?"

He froze, unable to take another step. No…it couldn't…could it?

"Spike?" she said again.

Slowly he turned around, looking at her. The sight of her took his breath away. Not that he had any to begin with.

"Buffy?" he tried to say, but his voice didn't work. His lips moved, but nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again.

"Buffy?" he whispered, the name barely passing his lips, but still loud enough for her to hear it. And for the group of five hidden from both of them, listening in on them.

Jack was shocked. He didn't think that John had come here before, and if he had, why hadn't he mentioned it? Also,  _Spike_? They'd both gone by some pretty ridiculous names in the past, but this was a new one.

"What are you wearing?" Buffy said. She was frozen, staring at her lost lover. For months he had haunted her memories. She kept going to that moment at the end. How he hadn't believed her when she said that she loved him. And she wondered if she was right. If she said it because it was her last words to a dying man, a man who deserved to hear it? Or did she really love him?

But she sees him again, and those were her first words? Really? But she hadn't known what to really say. He was so different. Instead of his usual black, he wore some sort of red jacket. His hair was no longer bleached blonde, it was a mousy brownish color. She guessed it was his original hair color. But his face? His face wore lines on it, and his eyes were full of pain.

This was not the same Spike.

She wondered if he was in a hell dimension, and if he got out, like Angel did. But he looked different from that, Angel was like a wild animal. Spike looked…broken.

He completely ignored her question, staring at her with those wide eyes, as if he thought that she would disappear with a blink. He didn't move to touch her, he didn't do anything but stare at her.

He looked worse than he did after he got his soul back.

Slowly, she reached her hand up to his face, lightly touching his cheek. The dam broke, and then he was crying in her arms, speaking but not making any sense.

"Let's take you home," Buffy said. She helped him up and started leading him away from the alley, presumably towards wherever she was staying.

Spike didn't say anything. He was still crying. He was in her arms.

To him, he was already home.


	19. Chapter Seventeen:  Sleep

**Chapter Seventeen - Sleep**

When Buffy got to the hotel, she brought Spike upstairs and sat him down on her bed.

"Get some sleep," she said, kissing his forehead lightly, before turning to go away. As she left, his hand caught hers, and she looked up into his eyes. For the first time, he had really been responsive.

"Don't leave me," he said, his voice hoarse from crying. "Please. Don't go."

Buffy hesitated, before taking his hand in hers and saying, "I need to do a few things. I'll join you again in a bit."

He nodded and settled down, slowly taking off his jacket.

Buffy went into the bathroom, and prepared herself for bed. She still didn't need to meet her contact for several days. Which was good because she didn't think that she could leave Spike in his current condition.

Spike. Oh god. Spike. She put her head in her hands and started to cry. What do you do when a dead lover shows up at your door? How was he even alive? How long had he been alive, what had happened to him? He looked like he'd gone through…hell. Her stomach lurched. What if he'd been in Hell? Oh god.

She managed to stop crying and calm herself. He isn't in Hell anymore, she told herself. Of course, it didn't help when she left the bathroom and saw Spike. No. A broken, exhausted, version of Spike. She remembered the old Spike, who would smile and laugh at the things she did, who would make a bunch of rude comments and be the perfect gentleman. She wondered if she would ever really get him back again.

Or if he would just be a shell for the rest of his life.


	20. Chapter Eighteen: The Old Me

**Chapter Eighteen – The Old Me**

She woke up when she felt Spike shaking beside her. He was crying in his sleep, and letting out a soft, whimpering sound.

"Spike," she said, shaking him. "Spike, wake up."

His eyes shot open, and he grabbed her, his muscles tensed, ready to fight, before settling down when he realized who it was.

"Buffy?" He whispered slightly, staring at her with wide eyes, before grabbing her and pulling her close, hugging her like he was holding on to dear life. And for all she knew, he was. He was crying, holding onto her, and she heard him mutter to himself, "You're real. It's real. I'm here."

She froze for a second in his arms, before relaxing and hugging him back. It's been months since she'd last see him, and being in his arms felt…safe. Despite everything that had occurred between them, she and Spike had finally been at peace with each other during their last days on the Hellmouth.

There was a knock on the door.

Spike froze.

"Shh," Buffy said. "It's just a friend."

 _A friend? He didn't have any friends,_  he thought.

She went to the door and pulled it open, a familiar voice drifting his way as someone entered. "I still don't understand what you need all of these things for. Men's clothes and bleach? Its odd for you to-" Giles voice broke off as he spotted who was on the bed. He dropped the bags of groceries on the floor.

"Oh, dear Lord," he said, taking of his glasses, and cleaning them. He put them back on again, saw that he could still see Spike, and went back to cleaning his glasses.

"I found him," Buffy said quietly. "I thought that getting these sorts of things would help him feel more comfortable, but I was afraid to leave him alone. Thank you for bringing them."

"Buffy, I – does he – what happened to him?" Giles asked.

"I don't know," Buffy said, before continuing, "Thank you, Giles. We'll see you again later."

She pushed a stammering Giles out the door, before closing it and locking it.

Then she walked slowly back to Spike. "Spike?" she asked quietly. "Do you want me to bleach your hair?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I s'pose."

Buffy sighed, and led him to the bathroom, where she stripped his shirt off. He sat there patiently as she brushed his hair out.

He didn't really care if he had his hair bleached or not. He was sort of…stunned. In shock, by the most recent turn of events.

Buffy leaned him over the bathtub, where she put gloves on and ran the bleach through his hair several times, before wrapping it up in aluminum foil to let it sit.

They sat there in the bathroom, waiting for the bleach to settle. For the first time in a long time, Spike was able to keep a lid on his demon. He felt more peaceful than he had in a long time.

Buffy reached over and grabbed the other bag.

"I have jeans and some shirts," she said, running through them. "Do you want them?" she passed the bag over to him.

He looked in them and shrugged, before saying the same thing as earlier. "Doesn't matter. I s'pose." They were standard variety black T-shirts and black jeans, with a red, blue, and purple shirt thrown in.

Buffy sighed, and then asked, "When was the last time you've eaten?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The last time you drank blood?" she asked.

He paused, counting in his head. "Eighty years ago. Give or take. I don't need blood anymore."

"Eighty? What happened?" Buffy asked, aghast.

"It's a long story," Spike said.

"I've got time," Buffy replied. Though it wasn't necessarily true, but for right now, she was putting a hold on everything unless it was Apocalypse big. Spike was front and center now.

"I don't want to tell it," Spike said, looking away.

"That's fine," Buffy said, slightly disappointed. "Tell me when you're ready."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready," Spike murmured so quietly Buffy almost missed it.

"Do you have a bad reaction to blood?" Buffy asked.

"No," Spike said. "I just…don't need it," he said.

"Well, you're still getting some," she said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

A minute later, she walked into the room with a glass of fresh blood in her hands. Spike's eyes widened at the smell.

"Here," Buffy said, squatting down next to him. She handed the glass towards him.

Spike refused to take it. "No, Buffy! 'M not drinking that!"

"Why?" she asked.

"'Cause it's yours!" Spike said. "And I don't even need blood!" This was the most animated Buffy had seen him, other than his crying from earlier.

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said. "Drink it. It will help you get better. And it's not like it's going back in the vein."

"Buffy, I…" Spike wasn't able to finish. After all this time, he still loved her, and he loved her even more for this. He didn't deserve a gift as special as her blood, not after everything that happened. But she still offered.

"Drink. Please," Buffy said. "For me." She knew that those words were going to be what it took for him to drink it.

Spike sighed, and took the glass from her, before raising it to his lips. A thought passed through his mind after the first wave of blood passed his lips;  _What if I lose control of my demon and hurt her?_ , but he was overwhelmed with the taste of her blood. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, and he felt his soul take more control over the demon that was in charge so frequently.

When he lowered the empty glass, he looked into Buffy's eyes.

"Better?" she asked, smiling.

"Better," he replied, weakly smiling back at her.

And this time, he wasn't actually lying.


	21. Chapter Nineteen:  Quick Question

**Chapter Nineteen - Quick Question**

The timer went off, and Buffy washed the bleach out of his hair. It wasn't enough to create the contrast they needed, so they did it a second time.

"I think we're going to need more peroxide," Buffy joked.

She got no response from Spike. He stayed where he was off in his thoughts.

"Spike," Buffy said. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to go back to Scotland-"

Spike's head shot up at that, worried that he lost her again, and that this was all for nothing, and god, he was pathetic.

"Will you come with me?" she finished.

If he had a heartbeat, it would've stopped. For the hundredth time in the past two days.  _She wanted him to come with her_.

Silently, he nodded.

She brightened. "Good. Then I'll just call Giles and tell him to take over here, and we're just gonna hop right back over to Scotland."

He nodded. She left the room, pulling out a cell phone and dialing a number. He heard Giles answer on the other end and Buffy bustled around, packing her stuff.

As much as he was dying to see everyone again – even Harris, despite how much they hated each other – he wasn't really sure that it would be great for him to walk into a…castle of Slayers. I mean, yeah, he did save the world from ending a couple of times, but he also killed two Slayers. He wasn't exactly going to be welcomed back with open arms.

* * *

**Happy Chanukah everyone! You'll be getting more posts. I meant to do this yesterday, but no internet.**


	22. Chapter Twenty:  Arrival

**Chapter Twenty – Arrival**

Spike looked up at the castle and laughed.

When Buffy said that their home base was a castle, he thought it was funny, but this?

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked immediately, parking the car as they brought it up to the drive. "Spike? What's wrong?"

Through his coughing, Spike managed to spit out, "Nothing." His laughing came out wheezing, and his vision blurred.

"You're crying," Buffy said, reaching out lightly to touch Spike. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No," Spike said. "This is all a dream. That's why this is so funny," he gestured to the castle. "That's proof that it's a dream. My subconscious is taking my memories and shoving them together to create this…dream."

"Spike," Buffy said gently. "It's not a dream. This is real. You're here." She glanced up at the castle. "We don't need to go in right away," she said softly. "We can go in when you're ready."

"No," Spike stopped wheezing. "Let's do this."

Before Buffy could even unbuckle, Spike was out of the car and headed towards the entrance.

"Dammit," Buffy swore, fumbling with her seatbelt until she managed to unbuckle, running after Spike.

She caught up with him at the entrance, "Spike, wait." She tugged at his elbow, pulling him to face her.

"What is it, Slayer?" Spike asked. For a second, he almost sounded like his old self.

"You could get hurt," Buffy said.

Spike shrugged. The sanity that showed vanished. "It doesn't matter, does it? After, this is all a dream."

"It's not a damn dream!" Buffy nearly shouted at him. "Would you please just stop?"

"No, Buffy," Spike said, and his sanity came back. And she saw what happened behind his eyes. When he was sane…he was broken. He didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered to him.

Putting him back together would take a lot of work.

"If I stop," Spike continued, "I fall apart. Because this isn't real. It's NOT." He looked away from her, and quietly whispered, "It can't be."

"Why not?" Buffy asked.

He looked at her, surprised that she heard him. "Because I don't deserve it," he said, so plainly he could have been talking about the weather. He shrugged. "It's why it's a dream."

He turned to go back inside.

Buffy grabbed his arm again. And she was angry. "Don't you dare give me this line," she told him angrily. "Angel fed me this line too much. Don't be him."

"But I don't deserve it," Spike said. "That's was my punishment."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Buffy asked. She hasn't been this mad in a long time.

He tilted his head at her. "I was alone for so long. That's why this isn't real. I've just gone crazy. It makes more sense."

Before she had time to tell him that everything he said didn't make sense, he turned and walked into the castle.


	23. Chapter Twenty One:  Scoobies

**Chapter Twenty One - Scoobies**

Spike walked inside, right into…the cafeteria.

He didn't realize that it was a side entrance to the castle. He should've known. After all, he lived in this castle for centuries.

The chatter in the cafeteria stopped suddenly, as everyone turned to look at Spike, followed by Buffy, who ran in right behind him.

"Spike?" He turned to look at Dawn, who slowly stood up at the end of the table. Willow stood up behind her, staring at Spike with incredulous eyes.

"Giles forgot to call and warn them," Buffy breathed to herself.

Xander had stopped eating, staring at him as if he was a ghost. Which, he had been, if only for a short while. Xander's food dripped from the spoon in front of his mouth.

"No," Spike said, shaking his head. His voice echoed off the walls. Everyone jumped. "No, no, no no no nononononononononon," he kept shaking his head, faster and faster. "Nonononon, this isn't right. THIS ISN'T RIGHT!" He almost tripped backing out of the cafeteria, before he turned and ran.

"Spike!" Buffy called out after him. "Stop it!"

She turned and ran out of the cafeteria after him.

"Buffy!" Dawn yelled, running after them. "Spike!"

Willow and Xander got up as well, running after them.

The three of them found Spike and Buffy outside. Spike was on the large tree in the backyard, and Buffy stood underneath it, trying to pull Spike back to the ground.

"Come on, Spike," she said, pulling him. "You need to come back to the ground. The sun will be up soon.

 _They're on a really weird schedule,_  Spike thought absentmindedly.  _If they're eating breakfast at this time._

"Spike!" Buffy shouted. "The sun is coming up!"

He looked down at her. "So?" he asked.

She stopped tugging and looked at him incredulously. "So you'll  _die_!"

"No I won't," Spike said confidently.

"Yes, you will, you idiot. Come back inside," Buffy pleaded with him.

"I don't want to go inside," Spike whispered, clinging tighter to the tree. "Too many memories. So many memories. Dreams are made of memories."

"For the last time, THIS IS NOT A DREAM!" Buffy shouted at him. "This is REAL, Spike."

"No, it's not," he said, not paying attention to her now. After all, she was only a hallucination, wasn't she?

"All alone," he whispered, rocking back and forth. "All alone. They're all gone."

"Who's gone?" Xander asked, coming up to the edge of the tree. The others followed suit.

"They're all gone," Spike repeated. Buffy sighed, putting her head in her hands. And then Spike continued talking.

"His love went first," he said quietly. "Angel's love."

"Buffy?" Willow asked.

"No," Spike said. "Cordelia. She died first."

Their eyes widened. "Cordelia's dead?" Xander asked.

"All gone," Spike whispered. "Then Fred. Fred died next. She was so good. Nice and smart and gone."

"Fred?" Willow said. "Winifred Burkle?" she asked.

"Yes," Spike whispered. "All gone. Then Wes."

"Wes?" Buffy asked.

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," Spike whispered. "He went next. Smart, he was. And brave. The Brave little disobedient soldier."

"Wesley?" Willow said. They all exchanged looks. Wesley wasn't very brave the last time they saw him.

"All gone," Spike whispered. "Then Gunn. And Gunn was gone. And then Illyria. And we were the only two left."

"We?" Buffy asked.

Spike continued, ignoring her. "And then he was gone, and he left me all alone. I wonder where he is. Is he burning in Hell? Where does an Angel go where he dies? Where's Angel? Dying and leaving me all alone like that." He paused. "Bloody selfish, it is."

"Angel's dead?" Buffy asked.

"He turned to ashes," Spike whispered. "And left me all alone."


	24. Chapter Twenty Two:  What Do We Know?

**Chapter Twenty Two - What Do We Know?**

It didn't take long for them to wrestle Spike inside. After they were unable to drag him down, Xander left and returned with a tranquilizer gun, and shot Spike. Once Spike fell out of the tree, they took him inside, and tied him to a chair.

"Why do you want us tying him up again?" Willow asked.

"Because I think he might hurt himself," Buffy said, tightening the knots.

"Doesn't this bring back old memories?" Xander said softly as the three of them stood over Spike.

"It does," Willow said.

"Yeah," Buffy said quietly. "It was so much easier then."

"Buffy?" Xander asked, turning to her. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Well," Buffy paused, and changed her mind. "Nothing's wrong," she said. "I'm fine. But could you guys leave me and Spike alone for a while? I know you probably have lots of questions, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to them all."

Xander nodded and he and Willow left the room.

Buffy nudged Spike. Nothing happened. He didn't wake up. She sighed and went to the fridge. She had brought blood back from Cardiff.

Buffy ripped open the bag of blood and waved it around under Spike's nose. Nothing.

Buffy sighed and poured the bag into a mug. She pushed the mug into the microwave and started heating it up, her foot tapping impatiently in annoyance.

The machine beeped and Buffy put the cup underneath Spike's nose. Nothing.

"Last resort it is, then," Buffy muttered, taking the pair of scissors and making a tiny, shallow cut along her wrist. She waved it under Spike's nose.

His eyes shot open. "What….?"

Buffy dripped the remaining blood from the cut into Spike's mug, before handing it to him. "Here. I thought you might be hungry."

Spike took it and drank it all, quickly, as if it was medicine that he was forced to take.

"This is yours," he said, when he was done.

"Wow," Buffy said. "What a keen observation! And you're a vampire, too!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Why am I drinking your blood?"

"Because you weren't reacting to anything else," Buffy said quietly, shrugging. He was starting to sound a bit more normal.

Buffy continued to stare at him, drinking him in. He looked away.

"So," he said. "We going back to this again?" he gestured to the ropes that bound him to the chair.

Buffy's heart lifted. He was joking. This was a good sign.

"Well, you know," she said. "I thought we ought to put all of the extra ropes to good use." She drifted her finger down Spike's face, and watched as his pupils dilated.

Changing the subject, she continued. "You weren't coming inside, Spike. And it was close to sunrise."

"Yeah, but I can go in the sun," Spike said.

"What?" Buffy asked. "Could you back up a bit?"

"I can walk in the sun. Did I not mention that?..."

"No. You didn't," Buffy said, staring at him. He was talking calm, rationally…he was actually making sense. He was starting to sound sane.

"The sun can't burn me," Spike continues. "I've already turned to ash."

And….she'd lost him again.

Buffy sighed internally. She really wanted to talk about what was on her mind. But she couldn't tell her best friend, not when he was crazy like this.

 _Best friend?_  She thought to herself.  _Is that what he is now._

 _No,_  another voice from inside of her said.  _He's always been much more than that. But he is your best friend. He's been the only one you've been able to talk to about anything, since…well, since_ **before** _you came back from Heaven._

Really, she had started confiding with him the night that he found her outside, after Joyce had told her that she was getting a CAT scan.

Buffy sighed aloud this time, glancing back at Spike. He was singing on and on, muttering to himself so quietly she could barely make out the words. But she could still hear them. And they sent a shiver down her spine, and the way he sang it reminded her of the Gentlemen. Oh, he had his low baritone, but he was still using that creepy, slowed down melody.

"Spike?" she said quietly, standing up from her chair and walking to the door. "I'm gonna spend Dawn in now. She misses you." She paused, waiting for a response. She got none.

She sighed again, and walked out the door, hearing Spike's fevered lyrics trailing behind her.

" _You think you're safe when you're in the light_

_You think the baddies only come at night_

_But that's not true; we should say goodbye_

_When the sun comes up we're all gonna die."_


	25. Chapter Twenty Three:  Let's Learn

**Chapter Twenty Three - Let's Learn**

"Jack!" Gwen hissed at him. "What the hell is going on?"

"Well, I'd have to know what's going on to tell you," Jack said, rolling his eyes. They were hiding in the forest next to the castle, where they had set up base. Using their equipment, they were able to get eyes and ears into the castle.

"Oh, please, you never tell us anything!" Owen said. "This could just be another thing you're keeping a secret."

"No," Tosh said. They all turned to look at her. "If he knew what was going on, he'd make sure to keep us as far away as possible."

Everyone was quiet as they took in that statement.

"Well, there you go," Jack said, a bit upset by the last comment. "I'm not lying. I actually have no idea what's-"

"Who the hell are you?" a commanding voice came, and they looked to the side to see a group of girls, with…was that stakes?

"Hello," Jack said, smiling at them. "I'm-"

"You can tell us back at base," the girl said, hefting her…stake. "Come with us."

"No way in-"

"Alright," Jack said, interrupting Owen. As they were set in front of the group of girls, Jack whispered, "Maybe we'll learn what's going on if we're on the inside."

"Yeah, sure," Owen said sarcastically. "Because villains always disclose their plans to their prisoners."

They paused as they realized the veracity of that statement.

"Maybe this is a good idea after all…" Owen muttered, continuing.

 _Or maybe not_ , Jack thought, a sense of foreboding hitting him as he looked up at the castle.  _Maybe this will doom us all._

* * *

**Merry Christmas, everybody!**


	26. Chapter Twenty Four: Intruders

**Chapter Twenty Four – Intruders**

"It seems we have intruders, Buffy," a voice came from one of the girls.

"Really? This isn't really a good time right now," Buffy said. She was sitting in a chair on the other side of the hallway, staring at the door to Spike's room with her elbows on her knees. Dawn had left a few minutes ago, saying that she didn't want to see him like that.

Buffy didn't want to see him like that either.

Which is probably why she hadn't gone back in.

"Buffy…"

"I know, I know…just…separate them, ask them what they're doing here, the usual…I'll be down soon."

"Alright," the slayer said, leaving.

Buffy sighed the minute she was gone. Sometimes she really hated being the head of the Slayer organization. She couldn't remember all of the girls in her domain in Scotland, much less the names of all the Slayers.

They had set it up as a council. As Buffy being the strongest Slayer, (not to mention the longest lived) she was set up as the head. Other experienced Slayers who fought in the Battle of the Hellmouth all had domains set up around the world. The only heads that weren't slayers were Andrew, in Rome, Robin Wood, in Cleveland, and Giles in London.

She sighed, looked at the door with one longing glance, and then started walking down the large staircase. She hoped that the intruders weren't as bad as the last ones they've had. Since she's been there, for about half a year, they've had exactly forty-one break-ins, twenty-three assassination attempts on Buffy's life (at least fourteen of them were hired from the Order of Taraka), nine joggers/hikers who accidentally stumbled in and were taken to be intruders, and one thief who thought he might be able to store some old artifacts from the castle.

* * *

Buffy stood in front of the doorway, watching Xander square off against one of the intruders.

"I already told you who I was!" The intruder yelled. He was short, with neat hair and freckles, and he was being held back by the other intruders.

 _I thought I told them to separate them…_ The thought drifted through Buffy's mind as she observed the five intruders.

"Then why don't I believe you!?" Xander yelled.

"Because you can't seem to swallow information through your giant, thick headed skull, you-"

"I think that's enough."

Everyone turned to look at Buffy, who spoke from the doorway.

"Who are you?" asked one of the intruders, who somehow managed to make a simple sentence sound like a pick up line.

"You first," Buffy said.

He gave a suave smirk, "Captain Jack Harkness."

"Buffy Summers," she said. "Stop flirting."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"Because they're in the middle of an investigation!" the girl beside him said, smacking him on the arm. "I'm Gwen. Gwen Cooper," she said, turning to Buffy. This is Ianto Jones," she gestured to the only other man that hadn't spoken, "Toshiko Sato," she gestured to the Asian woman, "and Owen Harper." That was the man who had been arguing with Xander when Buffy walked in.

"Alright. Now tell me who you  _really_  are," Buffy said, leaving the doorway and entering the room.

"We already told you," Owen said angrily. "I'm Owen-"

"Yes, I know your names," Buffy said. "But I don't know  _who_  you are. So? Who are you? Wolfram and Hart? Knights of Byzantium? The Initiative?"

"Who?" Ianto asked quietly.

"Ah," Jack said., his voice filling with recognition and understanding. He turned away from them. "Now I understand." He looked up to face Buffy. "I went first with the introductions. You go first on this one. I'll tell you who we are, and all that we know pertaining to your situation, if you tell us  _what_  you are."

Toshiko let out a small gasp, and Gwen raised her eyebrows. "You mean she's-"

"No," Jack said, shaking his head. "Those...organizations...don't deal with the same thing that we do." He looked back at Buffy. "So, Summers? What's it gonna be?"

Buffy didn't know what caused her to say it – and she knew that she shouldn't reveal information like this to the enemy, or at the very least, intruders, but her gut was telling her that honesty held the answer. "I'm a Slayer."

Jack looked confused. "Don't you mean  _The_  Slayer?"

"No. There's not just one now," Buffy said slowly.

"How many are there?" Jack asked.

"We don't know. We're still counting," Xander said, joining the conversation from where he was leaning against the wall. "But at the very least, 1,500."

Jack's eyebrows raised, and he looked back and forth between Xander and Buffy. "How did it go from 1 to 1,500?"

"I'll explain later," Buffy said briskly. "Now, though, it's your turn."

"Alright," Jack said, though he obviously wanted to pursue the subject. Buffy was silently thankful that he was behaving - the most behaved intruder yet, even despite his flirting. "Have you ever heard of Torchwood?"

"No," Buffy said. "And you're a part of…Torchwood?"

Jack nodded. "The Initiative dealt with…how did they put it? Subterrestrials?"

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Hostile Subterrestrials. What about it?"

"Well, while The Initiative deals with  _sub_ terrestrials, we deal with  _extra_ terrestrials."

Everyone stared at him.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Aliens," Jack said, shrugging.

"No, I got that!" Buffy yelled. "But…aliens? Really?"

"If Andrew gets wind of this, he's gonna have a field day," Xander said.

"Why?" Buffy asked.

Xander gestured to Torchwood. "Not only do they deal with aliens, but they're  _British_. And he's seen every episode of Doctor Who."

"Doctor Who?" Jack asked. "Are you talking about the Doctor? Regenerates, flies through time and space in a big blue box?"

"Yes," Xander said warily, stretching out the word.

"Oh, I just got back from traveling with him!" Jack exclaimed.

"What?" Gwen and Owen yelled at him. "Is that where you've been for the past year?" Gwen continued.

"Maybe?" Jack said. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about again? I forgot. Oh, yeah, so why are there multiple slayers?" He turned to Buffy.

She blinked at him and opened her mouth to talk, but was interrupted by Gwen. "No, you do not, Jack! Stop averting the subject!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine. So you know how I've lived a pretty long time? The whole reason I even started with Torchwood was to find a way to catch the Doctor again."

"What!?"

Xander slipped up next to where Buffy stood. "I feel like we're intruding," he whispered.

Buffy nodded. "Me too. But they aren't too bad, as far as intruders go."

"What do you mean by that?" Xander asked.

"Well, for one," Buffy said, turning back to the bickering group. "They haven't tried to kill us yet."

* * *

**OMG I'm so so so so sososososooso sorry! This is the first update since Christmas - the first update of 2015 and it's JUNE. I'm so sosososososossosososososososososososoxosos sorry, please forgive me. But I promise that the story isn't done - I don't abandon my babies, I just neglect them for months on end.**

**Sweet dreams. :)**

**P.S. If I go a long time without updating, you are all free to yell at me. If I go over a month, please, YELL AT ME.**


	27. Chapter Twenty Five: Small World?

**Chapter Twenty Five – Small World?**

Torchwood's angry ramblings were interrupted by the shout of "Vampire!"

The team, along with Buffy and Xander, looked at the only other person in the room, a small blonde girl. They followed her gesture towards the door, where Spike stood, looking dazed.

"Vampire?" Owen asked, snorting. "That's ridiculous. Vampires don't exist."

"But you believe in aliens?" Xander asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah, but there's proof of that!" Owen protested.

"Owen, vampires are real," Jack said calmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Get over it."

Everyone in Torchwood stared at him.

"You're serious?" Gwen asked him.

"Of course."

"What about werewolves?" Ianto asked.

"Yes," Jack said.

"Or witches?" Toshiko asked.

Buffy spoke up. "Our resident witch is out right now, contacting a friend, but you can meet her when she returns." Willow had left to call Giles.

They all stared at her.

The girl broke the silence. "Excuse me, but there's a vampire  _right. There._ " She grabbed a stake from her belt.

"Rowena, relax," Buffy said. "This guy's on our side. Sort of. But no dusting."

"Wait, are you telling me John  _is_  a vampire?" Jack asked incredulously. "But…oh. Oh.  _Oh_."

"What is it?" Gwen asked.

"He's a vampire," Jack said. "It makes sense now. The sun. His aging. Coughing up blood. Duh. I can't believe I missed it!" He walked over to Spike and slung his arm around his shoulder. "Why didn't you  _tell_  me that you were a vampire, John? I could've gotten you into the Academy so much sooner!"

"What the hell is he talking about?" Xander asked Gwen.

She shook her head. "Truthfully, you probably know more than us at this point."

"Wait, why do you keep calling him John?" Buffy asked, coming up next to Spike and Jack.

"That's his name!" Jack said.

"No it's not," Buffy said, shaking her head.

Jack froze. "What?"

"That's not his name," Buffy said. "Look, when did you meet him? What year?"

"Look, I know that you call him Spike, and he's gone by some weird names in the past…"

"When did you meet him?" Buffy demanded.

"Uh…"

"When?"

"…The 51st century," Jack answered.

"…I'm sorry, what?" Buffy asked.

"The 51st century," Jack said.

"But then how…" Xander asked.

"It's simple, really," Spike said. "Time travel."

They all turned to look at him.

"Spike? You're…coherent…" Buffy drifted off.

"Yeah. Probably not gonna last long, tho'. 'M starting to feel it slipping, so let's hurry."

* * *

They all sat gathered around a table ( _they_  being Buffy, Spike, Xander, Willow (who returned), Dawn, Jack, Gwen, Ianto, Toshiko, and Owen).

"Let's start from the beginning," Spike said, taking a deep breath, inhaling the blood from the cup in front of him. Buffy had poured some of her blood into it, realizing that Slayer blood kept him sane; if only for a little while. Buffy kept stubbornly doing it, so Spike had stopped complaining, giving her a small nod of thanks. "I was born in the 1850s – I don't even know the exact date anymore, it's been so long. I was an English gentleman, but lower class. I was…a prat. I was a scholar, I graduated top of my class from Cambridge, and I spent my time writing…poetry. I was nicknamed 'William the Bloody Awful Poet'. Some would say things like, 'I'd rather have a railroad spike shoved through my head than listen to his poetry'. I…was in love…with a woman named Cecily. One night, I told her of my feelings of her, and she…turned me down. I fled from the party, crying, and I hid in an alley. That was when…Drusilla found me. Drusilla was my sire; she was the vampire that turned me. After that, I went back to my mother, and…let's skip that part. Anyways, so I became a vampire. I hunted down anyone who called my poetry terrible, and granted their wish – I shoved metal railroad spikes through their skulls. And then I read my poetry to them anyway. After that, 'Awful Poet' was dropped from my name, so it was just 'William the Bloody'. I picked up 'Spike' not too long after that, (cause of the railroad spikes), and kept it. Over the next few decades, I traveled with Drusilla, her sire, Angelus, and his sire, Darla. The four of us became known as 'The Whirlwind' or 'The Scourge of Europe'. Right before the end of the 19th century, Angelus became cursed. He fed off a Gypsy, one who was revered by her clan, so they cursed him. They returned his soul to his body, so that he would feel the guilt and horror of his actions as a vampire. He left us soon after that, unable to stand the killings. He rejoined us a few years later, trying to…'fit in' again. Dru and I never really knew what was going on – it was Darla who made all of the decisions. That night, during the Boxer Rebellion, I killed my first Slayer. Angel left us again after that, after saving a family from Darla. I didn't see him again until the 1940s, when I was caught in Germany be the Nazis who were hoping to utilize vampires into creating a vampire army – the original Initiative. We escaped, and I didn't see him again. Not long after the Boxer Rebellion, Darla left us too, to return to her sire, the Master, and then it was just Dru an' me. In the seventies, I killed my second Slayer. After that, I traveled with Dru to Praque where she nearly died. We went to California's Hellmouth, in Sunnydale, hoping that it would heal her. That was where I met my next Slayer."

"Me," Buffy filled in.

"Yeah. So, we went through a whirlwind during those…what, six years?"

"Yeah," Buffy said.

"Seems shorter. Anyway, we went through a hell of a lot during those years…during which, I got my soul returned to my body, which…kind of left me insane."

"Understatement," Buffy muttered.

"Not long after, we had to fight the 'First' Evil, and during that time, Buffy used Red," he gestured to Willow, "the resident witch, to use the Slayer's Scythe to unlock the power of the Slayer from every potential. We fought against the First Evil, and I died in a blaze of glory. And then, because God forbid I get some rest, I woke up in Angel Investigations at Wolfram and Hart. Nasty buggers. Angel had joined the enemy in order to try and take control from within. Unfortunately, it wasn't going well. Cordelia fell into a coma from the previous…incidents they've had, and died after waking up for one day, even though, on the record, it says that she never woke up from the coma and that she laid there the whole day. Afterward, Fred died. Winifred Burkle, she was a genius, she was. You see, when I woke up at Wolfram and Hart, I didn't have a…physical…form. I was a ghost, for lack of a better word. Fred helped me get my body back…somewhat, I'm still not really sure how that happened. But then Fred had gotten sick, and her body was possessed by a god of some sort – her name was Illyria. We stayed at the firm for a bit longer, and Angel tried to get into the Black Thorn – the big league of evil. We took down separate members. During that, Wesley died. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce – he was great, he was. Deserved a better end." Spike picked up the glass and drank some blood like a shot before putting it back on the table and continuing. "Illyria stayed by his side and pretended to be Fred for him, because he loved Fred. Later, me, Angel, Illyria, and Gunn met up in the back alley of their old hotel. Gunn had a stomach wound – he wasn't going to last long, and we all knew it. Illyria told us of Wesley's death, and we took on the 60,000 or so minions of the Circle of the Black Thorn." He hesitated, taking a sip from Buffy's blood. "That's the last I remember. When I woke up again, over eight hundred years had passed."

"Eight hundred years?" Buffy asked incredulously. Everyone wore similar expressions around the circle.

Spike nodded. "Yeah. I just have a blank memory. After that, I kept living, for some reason. I didn't have hope until around the 49th century. That when Earth received the news – we were getting a Time Agency."

"Time Agency?" Xander repeated.

Spike and Jack both nodded. "You would work for the agency, carrying messages throughout time and space. Each member that could 'Travel' would receive one of these." They both held up their wrist straps. "These are vortex manipulators," Spike continued. "But it was still a long while until I got mine. I applied hundreds, thousands of different times to the Academy, but they never let me in because of my…condition. One day, I climbed the big tree behind the Academy, telling myself that I would actually stay to watch the sunrise that day, when this idiotic kid starts bothering me. He climbs the tree and asks me all of these questions, being a little shit an' such. And then he says something like, 'I'm gonna call you John,' so I turn to him and start ripping him a new one because do I look like a bloody  _John_  to you? We became friends, he told me his name, and I told him the name I had recently applied to the Academy with. Which…at the time…just so happened to be John."

"Who was this guy?" Gwen asked. Even though she, along with the rest of the Torchwood team, was confused and clueless about what was going on, they couldn't help leaning closer.

"Me," Jack said, and everyone turned to look at him. "I was the 'idiotic kid'. But that wasn't until the 51st century."

"Yeah," Spike said, nodding. "Two hundred years after I first started applying. Afterwards, Jack pulled some strings and managed to get them to build a special type of faux vortex manipulator that would protect me from the sun. They said that it would allow me to attend the Academy as anyone else would, and, if I passed, I would receive a  _real_  Vortex Manipulator with additional functions to protect me from the sun like the fake one. As you can see," he held up his Vortex Manipulator, "I passed."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, by lying."

"You didn't have to lie for me, you know," Spike said. "You just influenced my bad habits."

" _Sure_ ," Jack said sarcastically. He fake coughed into his hand and said, "Rehabs."

"Anyway, we traveled together for a while. And then…jeez, so many things happened that I don't really  _know_  what happened." Spike paused, and swallowed. "Time can be a tricky thing. You can have different timelines, and different realities. You have paradoxes and fixed points. But I didn't remember anything that happened in that eight hundred year time span, which meant that I could go and do whatever the hell I wanted during those years and not mess up the timeline at all. If I don't know the events that happen, I'll get the same results that led to the current timeline. However, if I  _do_  know what events take place during those years, then it will become a fixed point in time, and I won't be able to change it, no matter how much I want to. I've purposely stayed away from the history books about those years. I had joined the Time Agency in order to travel back in time to  _this_  time period."  _So I could be with you again._  The words weren't spoken, but they hovered in the air, unsaid. Even to the Torchwood team, it was fairly obvious that Spike did it for Buffy, from the way he spoke and gazed at her.

"So now you're here," Xander said.

Spike snorted, "Yeah, accidentally. I followed some residual energy back here – I was never able to transport here on my own. I couldn't go back before 2500, no matter how hard I tried. I don't even know how long it's been since I've last seen Jack. I have no idea how old I am."

"Really?" Dawn asked.

"Well, I've got to be over three thousand years old, mathematically, even though I only remember about twenty five hundred years of it. Plus there's all the time I spend time traveling." He shrugged. "I'm old. I can tell you that much."

"Why don't you look like the Master?" Buffy asked.

"Hmm?" Spike asked.

"The Master. He was only like...a thousand when I killed him, but he was in vamp face," Buffy explained.

Spike chortled. "Yeah, that's 'cause he got some inferiority disorder about being the leader of the Order of Aurelius. He probably felt like he had to make himself seem more powerful. He  _did_  have a human form – Darla told me that she'd seen it once, but I never had."

"So where was the Time Agency?" Dawn asked.

"What?" Spike asked, directing his attention to her.

"You said that the Time Agency came to earth. Where? Cardiff?"

"No," Spike said curtly.

"Why does everyone think that the Time Agency was in Cardiff?" Jack asked.

"Should you really be saying 'was'?" Xander asked Jack. "I mean, it technically wasn't made yet, right?"

Buffy put her head in her hands. "My head hurts," she complained.

"Well, you were found in Cardiff," Willow said, continuing Dawn's line of questioning. "So you can't blame us for thinking that it was there."

"There's also the Rift," Tosh said suddenly.

"What?" Xander asked.

"There's a Rift in space and time in Cardiff, which draws lots of extraterrestrial attention and energy," Tosh explained. "That might be another reason why the Time Agency was there."

"Well, it wasn't made in Cardiff," Spike said. "And they didn't build a new place. They used an old…building."

"Well, where was it?" Dawn asked excitedly. Buffy dragged her head up and looked at Spike, and everyone turned their attention to him.

"You mean, where  _is_  it," Spike corrected. He took a deep breath. "Right here."

* * *

**Hey everyone. First things first - I will try to update once a week. Second - the Doctor will not be appearing in the story (or at least he won't be currently), and once we enter Part Three (you'll notice I have Part One and we're currently on Part Two) I don't believe that we'll be seeing Torchwood again, either (though that may be subject to change). As to your comments, thank you for commenting, and to the guest, you have a good point (even though it was mostly in there for a joke). Still, if you want to see a larger explanation, check out my Supernatural, Doctor Who, Avengers, Harry Potter, and Sherlock fanfiction crossover, The Girl Who Knew Too Much. It would be AWESOME if you guys could read all of it (you only need basic knowledge on each of the fandoms), but if you don't want to read the whole thing, I can't really blame you. Specifically go to chapter 109 (titled Chapter Ninety Eight) and chapter 110 (titled Chapter Ninety Nine). That should cover everything (you'll notice that my chapters are off because of my odd-organizing habits). Some parts of it won't exactly make sense, you just need to know that when it's in 1st person, it's from the POV of an OC who is this world's AU version of Clara, Clarissa Osbourne (or Rissa as she likes to call it. The 'I' is pronounced with a long 'E'. R-EE-sah)**

**Sweet dreams everyone.**


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